


For a Moment

by sandy_s



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 18:15:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4971319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandy_s/pseuds/sandy_s
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Disclaimer: I own nothing. Joss owns all.<br/>Rating: PG<br/>Summary: Set in season 6 of BtVS, after “Doublemeat Palace.” Buffy cleans house.<br/>I think this was also written for seasonal_spuffy long ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For a Moment

Today of all days, she decides to clean.

After all, it’s her only day off, and it’s raining.

And she finds his things all over the house. 

It’s been months since she. . . since her friends brought her back. . . since she began sleeping with him.

She finds a black T-shirt in Dawn’s laundry basket, a red-tinged mug in the cabinet, a tattered book that looks as if it’s been read too many times to count.

She even finds a stray packet of blood underneath a particularly moldy loaf of bread in the back of the refrigerator.

Dawn never said a word to her about him spending time in the house over the summer she was gone.

And it’s ironic because she never lets him into the house now that she’s back. 

The barrier remains unspoken while the invitation to cross the threshold remains open.

She has to draw lines somewhere, or she’ll lose the remaining shred of herself.

She throws out the blood because the red is dark and clotted-looking. . . old like she feels.

Juggling the rest of his items, she piles them on the coffee table and studies them.

Proof that he exists. . . proof that he loves Dawn. . . proof that he loves her.

She wonders if Dawn misses him.

She caresses the well-washed shirt and then brings the soft fabric to her nose. His scent clings stubbornly through the spring fresh detergent. 

The corners of her lips turn up. 

Her face feels as if it might crack, and she realizes that she’s forgotten what it feels like to smile. Something about it feels good.

Allowing herself to fall into the sofa’s welcoming cushions, she drags the T-shirt and book into her lap, black covering her bare thighs and fingers splayed over the leather binding.

She feels safe away from the pouring rain. . . safe and ready for dreaming.

As she drifts to sleep, she vows to invite him in tonight. . . even if only for a moment.


End file.
